One Shots and More
by Chellepo1977
Summary: I just wanted to create a place for any little stories I might write for our wonderful OTP Richonne. Characters belong to AMC, story belongs to me.
1. No

_#1: "No"_

 _This was written as part of the Richonne Writing Network Alphabet Challenge. I had a lot of fun with this prompt. You really should check out all of these wonderful little gems by some fantastic authors over on Tumblr at Richonne Just Desserts. :)_

 _XXX_

"No," she laughed, and Rick just smiled and shook his head.

"You always say no," he said, taking a long pull of his beer and trying not to get distracted by how gorgeous her eyes were.

"…but for some reason, you insist on asking me out at least once a week," she fired back, grinning as she brought her bottle to her lips.

"What can I say, Mackenzie? You've completely captivated me," he explained, her smile making him warm all over just like it had the first time he'd been blinded by it on the courthouse steps. Michonne Mackenzie's smile could make a blind man see.

"You're just going to have to uncaptivate yourself because I don't date cops, Grimes," she answered, swiping another one of the mozzarella sticks they were supposed to be sharing but she had commandeered.

"That's not very inclusive of you. How can Atlanta's best civil rights attorney shut out a whole group of guys simply because of what they do for a living?" He asked; being overly facetious just to get a rise out of her. When a heavy sigh accompanied her trademark eye roll, his assumption was proved accurate.

"Occupation isn't a protected class so I'm good," she countered, the lightness of her tone telling him she wasn't really upset.

"You've never told me why you don't date cops," he continued.

"Experience," she hedged, and there was something her voice telling him there was more to it than that.

He frowned at the thought of some cop being lucky enough to take her out only to not realize her worth. She deserved to be treated like a queen and that was exactly what he'd do if he could just get one "yes" from her. "Sounds like you dated the wrong cops. I could change your opinion…," he offered.

She shook her head and popped the last bite of the last mozzarella stick into her mouth. "How many times do I have to turn you down?" She asked; her plump lips curving into a half-smile. Those lips drove him to distraction because he'd always end up wondering if they were as soft as they looked.

He cleared his throat, trying to clear those inappropriate thoughts from his mind. "As many times as it takes until you finally say yes," he finally answered.

"Sometimes I think you keep asking me out just to annoy me," she mumbled, and he couldn't hold in his laugh.

"While I admit that the little wrinkle you get between your eyes when you're annoyed is adorable, I keep asking you out because I really like you," he explained, "…and just so you know, I already know you like me too."

Both her eyebrows shot up and she bit her lip in a failed attempt not to smile."Is that a fact?" She asked, and he nodded with complete certainty.

"I've seen you destroy other guys to the point where I almost feel sorry for them. Me...you just laugh and then we get to flirting like we are right now," he smiled.

"Oh, is that what we're doing here," she teased.

"This…," he said, gesturing between the two of them, "…is the definition of flirting."

"No, this is just us hanging out because our other friends are coupled up," she countered.

He glanced over to where their group of friends were sitting, focusing on her friend Maggie and his partner Glenn engaging in almost indecent levels of PDA and making him wish it was him and Michonne.

He turned back to her, grinning, "That could be us but you're playing…"

The laugh erupted from her gut and it took a good minute for her to calm down enough to speak. "No, no...did Carl teach you that one?" She asked, calling him out while her eyes still shone with amusement.

He chuckled, knowing his 15 year old son would die if he'd heard that phrase come out of his mouth. "I might have read it on one of his Instagram captions," he admitted, and that made her laughter start all over again. He didn't mind though. Seeing her consumed with so much joy, even at his expense, only intensified the nervous energy he always felt around her.

In that moment, it all became too much the dam that held back all of his feelings for her for the last year, shattered into oblivion. "You have to know that I'm falling in love with you, Michonne. I think I have been since the day we met. You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen but you're also the smartest. You're funny, kind...Carl thinks the world of you...We're real good friends and I know we could be a whole lot more," he confessed.

"Rick," she began, looking at him like he'd completely lost his mind.

His skin was on fire and he was babbling; but he cut her off with a deep breath and kept going, "…but if I'm annoying you, or making you feel uncomfortable in any way, I'll stop pushing. I want you in my life however I can have you and Carl would kill me if I did anything to make you stop coming around…," he paused; terrified by the idea of not being around her at all, "...it would kill me if I pushed you away..."

She cut him off by leaning in and softly brushing her lips against his, definitively answering his long standing question about how her lips would feel. They were plush and satiny, warm and welcoming…one kiss had him feeling like she was home for him.

She slid away, ending the kiss way too soon, but when her eyes fluttered open, the fire he saw in them was just as intoxicating as the kiss had been. "Ask me again," she whispered, her request stopping his heart.

"Michonne Mackenzie...will you go out with me?" He breathed.

Her face lit up with a dazzling smile before she answered, "Yes."


	2. No - Part 2

_No - Part 2_

 _(By request for TheBaddestB. Thank you and all of my lovely readers for the kind words!)_

She tasted sweet and spicy like the cinnamon Red Hots she'd been eating off and on ever since they started watching tv. They weren't actually watching the tv, it was just on as they found a better way to pass the time.

He was wedged between her jean clad thighs and his hands were drifting underneath her shirt as they fell deeper into the cushions of his couch. This was the farthest they'd gone in the four weeks since she'd finally agreed to go out with him and Rick was very quickly losing the ability to think.

Their other dates were typical; their first date was dinner at The Mercury, their second was a concert at the Fox Theater, date three was a a beautiful afternoon in Grant Park, while date four was a midweek lunch when he just needed to see her. He was happy to say that he'd been right the whole time. Dating hadn't changed anything about their friendship other than adding more touching and kissing. Making her smile had always been important to him but now it was his priority.

He wanted date five to be special, so when Carl asked to spend the night at a friend's house, he'd readily agreed and invited Michonne over for dinner to show off his limited cooking skills. Dinner had gone well; his signature spaghetti with homemade meatballs elicited nothing but complements from her and she'd cleaned her plate. After eating, talking, and drinking a good amount of wine, they'd decided to watch a show on Netflix and that's how he ended up on top of her on the couch.

Her hands were tangled in her hair; holding him in place as he worked his mouth against hers. She pulled away with a giggle to catch her breath and the shy smile that played on her lips right before she kissed him again, sent electric pulses running through his entire body. And the way she looked at him…it was like she was seeing right through to his soul. He was left branded by the warmth of those big, chocolate eyes of hers before they slowly slid shut. He closed his eyes too and tried to only focus on kissing her, but she felt so goddamn good that he had to remind himself to breathe.

His eyes flew open again when, between the sound of their lips smacking together and her breathy moans, he heard the unfortunate scraping of a key being shoved into a lock.

He forced his mouth away from hers and the loss of contact made him want to scream. "Damn," he muttered.

"What's wrong?" She asked but the squeaking of a door swinging open answered her question. He watched as panic overcame her her fine features and she reactively shoved him away. "Is that…"

"Carl…" he confirmed, moving off of her as quickly as he possibly could so they could retreat to opposite ends of the couch.

The footsteps stopped in the kitchen, and were replaced by the sound of cabinets opening and closing. For once, Rick was happy about his son's voracious appetite because it gave them time to get their act together.

Michonne's heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest and it wasn't only because of Carl almost walking in on them. She was still a little lightheaded from Rick's kisses and while being with him made her feel like she was a teenager falling in love for the first time, this was a little too much.

She hissed, "I thought you said he was spending the night with a friend..."

He couldn't think straight. All the blood in his brain had already rushed to another part of his anatomy. He shrugged and pulled one of the pillows into his lap to cover the most obvious evidence of what they'd been doing.

"I thought he was," he replied, adorably running his hands through his hair and taking deep breaths to gather his bearings. She reached over and rubbed at the raisin lipstick stains on his lips and face and he thanked her with a grateful smile.

She tilted her head and gave him a pointed look.

"Did you tell him yet?" She asked. They'd agreed to wait until they were sure about each other before telling Carl about the shift in their relationship. His son thought the sun rose and set in her and she'd worried about how he would react to the fact that his dad was now dating his favorite person to talk about comic books with. After their last date, they'd decided that Rick would deliver the news to Carl.

"Not yet," he whispered and he felt her side eye from the other end of the couch.

"Rick…" She began, slightly irritated that he hadn't kept his end of the bargain. She hurried to straighten her clothes and smooth her hair; anything to look less like a woman thinking about letting her boyfriend into her pants.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I know. It was never the right…," The soft suction of the refrigerator door closing was followed by the familiar shuffling of Carl's feet moving closer, and he cut himself off when he saw the gangly fifteen year old enter the living room from the kitchen.

"Hey," he greeted in that semi-bored way teenagers had mastered. "Why is it so dark in here?"

Rick couldn't believe they'd failed to turn on at least a lamp in their rush to cover their tracks, so he ignored the question.

"Hey, son. What happened to staying over at Duane's?"

Carl groaned and flopped down on the couch, sandwiching himself in between the two them with a glass of soda and a bowl of cold spaghetti. "He's so lame! He ate too much popcorn at the movies and now he's got the bubble guts. I do not want to be at his house for that," he explained.

Michonne laughed at Carl's way with words. "Eww!"

Carl gave her a crooked grin, "Exactly. I didn't know you were coming over tonight, Michonne."

"Your dad was bored and wanted some company," she said and that was true. She didn't want to lie to the kid. They were buddies after all.

Carl seemed to accept her answer because he shoved a forkful of noodles into his mouth and turned his attention to the tv screen. She shared a relieved smile with Rick; glad that they'd somehow escaped capture.

Their relief was short lived when Carl asked, "What were you guys watching?"

Rick wracked his brain trying to remember what they were watching but all he could remember was how silky the skin on Michonne's stomach had been. He glanced over at Michonne and her wide eyes screamed that she was just about as clueless as he was.

"Huh?" Their response was so simultaneous that it was in stereo.

Carl wrinkled his eyebrows and put his bowl on the table.

"It's asking if you're still watching so you must've been so deep in a binge," he explained, looking between the two of them and waiting for an answer. All he wanted to know is what they were watching and they were acting like it was a secret. His father's face and neck were pink and Michonne refused to even look at him. He couldn't help but think that grown ups were so weird sometimes.

He reached for the remote, noticing the two glasses of wine and the half empty bottle on the coffee table. It reminded him of Duane's parents whenever he happened to stop by on one of their "staydate" nights...

He froze; swallowing hard as all of the weird things he'd noticed added up in his head.

Dad made spaghetti.

They were drinking wine.

There wasn't a light on in the whole house.

They had no idea what they were watching.

Both of them were acting so weird.

He narrowed his eyes and focused in on Michonne who was biting her lip and refusing to meet his eye. Then he turned his attention to his dad whose cheeks were blazing red and he was clutching one of the couch pillows that happened to be strategically placed in his lap...

Horrified, he jumped up and hustled across the room to get as far away from the adults and that pillow as he could. He cringed as the truth about what they'd been up to dawned on him.

"Oh my god!" He shouted, turning around to face them, "Is this...Netflix and chill?!"

Michonne sank even deeper into her corner of the couch as embarrassment washed over her. She was having flashbacks of being Carl's age and getting caught making out with her boyfriend when she was supposed to be babysitting her little brother.

"Carl," she began, but Rick interrupted.

"Son, It's only been a few weeks. We were going to tell you," he said.

Rick waited as Carl dragged his stare from one of them to the other. Nervous didn't even begin to describe what he was feeling. He'd dated a couple of women in the five years since his wife passed, but none of them had been serious enough to warrant getting too involved with his son. This time, the woman was already someone Carl was close to. He and Michonne had bonded over a shared love of comic books and Big Cat bars at the very first cookout at Glenn and Maggie's house she'd attended. Even though he knew Carl adored Michonne, Rick wondered if him dating her somehow changed that.

After a few tense moments, Carl asked, "Are you like, just talking now or...?"

Rick was confused. What was Carl even asking him? Of course they were talking. Why was that even a question? Was that some slang he hadn't learned yet? He was just about to ask for some clarification when he felt Michonne's hand on his knee.

"We were, but now we're official," she offered.

Carl's eyes grew impossibly wide and his mouth fell open. She expected him to be surprised but she hated to admit that she was slightly unsettled by his reaction.

"You and my dad?" He asked, pointing to each of them to punctuate his words. "For real?"

She nodded. "For real. Are you ok with this?"

Disbelief was written all over his face as he pulled his hand through his shaggy, dark hair before sighing, "It's cool, it's just...you're so awesome and dad is…dad."

Rick chuckled, "Thanks a lot for the compliment."

Carl rolled his eyes, "You know what I mean!"

There was no way his dad couldn't know that Michonne was virtually perfect. He was just shocked that after almost a year of being just friends, his dad had finally made his move and proud that it had actually worked out. Maybe the old man did know a little something about women.

Rick allowed his eyes to rest on the woman sitting on the other end of the couch. She was pretty spectacular. It would be impossible for any other woman to reach the pedestal Michonne occupied in his mind.

"Yeah. I guess I do," he agreed; reaching for her hand and bringing it to lips.

Carl folded his arms over his chest and turned his eyes to slits in a near perfect imitation of his dad. "I am disappointed that you waited till after I left to make spaghetti and invite your girlfriend over behind my back," he said, before tilting his head to one side. "These parents today, Michonne. What are we going to do with them?"

She laughed freely; glad that her buddy was still her buddy.

"So...I'm gonna go up to my room now so y'all can get back to doing…whatever," Carl said, picking up his bowl and glass and heading back toward the kitchen.

"Good night, son," Rick called after him.

Carl paused just before entering the kitchen. "Good night...and dad?

Rick glanced over the back of the sofa and his son was smirking at him. "Yeah?"

"I'm happy for you, but it's been a long time since you've dated. Do we need to have the talk?"

Michonne covered her mouth with her hand before her laugh could slip out and watched as Rick turned even redder.

"Carl…" He was enjoying how mortified his dad was a little too much. He burst out laughing and scrambled away into the kitchen.

"See ya later, Michonne!" He yelled.

"Good night, Carl!" She replied.

They listened as he finished up in the kitchen and ran up the stairs to his room.

Rick shrugged. "That went…well I suppose…except for the part where he thinks I'm not good enough for you."

"He didn't know his old man has game," she smiled before slowly rising from her seat.

"Where are you going?" He asked, hoping she wasn't going to say what he thought she was going to say.

"Now that the mood is irrevocably broken, I should get home," she said.

It was exactly what he'd been thinking she was going to say and he grabbed her hand and tried to halt her progress. They'd been venturing into uncharted territory before Carl interrupted them and Rick wanted to continue mapping the course.

He reminded her, "Carl said we should get back to whatever we were doing..."

She raised an eyebrow and shook her head."Yeah…I don't think so. Besides, you two haven't had the talk yet," she teased.

Without letting go of her hand, he reluctantly got to his feet. "Oh now don't you start," he huffed as she just laughed even more.

She grabbed her purse and he walked with her to the door and then out to her car. Once there, she leaned against the driver's side door and he closed the space between them; standing close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her face.

"In spite of everything, I had a great time tonight," she whispered.

"Me too," he agreed, "We'll have to do it again sometime."

She reached up to the back of his neck and leaned in until their lips were barely touching. "Yeah…as long as it's at my place," she said, just as her eyes fluttered closed and she surrendered to good night kiss that was filled with unlimited possibilities.

 _XXX_

 _Apparently I can focus on everything but what I should be focusing on, but this was fun to write. Let me know what you think!_


	3. Video Games

_Video Games_

 _This is based on a prompt from the Richonne Writing Network. One of our lovelies likes video games, the other doesn't but eventually comes around. It is completely unrelated to anything else. Hope you like it!_

 _XXX_

"You know, if you're scared you can just say you're scared," she teased.

"I'm not scared. I just don't want to play," he argued.

On one of their last runs, they'd found an old Super Nintendo game system with a basket full of games that looked to be in good working order and Michonne just had to have them. She'd given him plenty of reasons why bringing it all back to Alexandria was a good idea. Reasons ranging from Carl might like the old games to Judy being able to play a few when she got a little older. Her real motivations slipped out when she admitted that she'd gotten one for her tenth birthday and had spent hours playing some of those games with her friends.

Seeing the light in her eyes as she flipped through the old cartridges had been enough reason for Rick and he'd helped her bag everything up even making sure they had all of the right cables. Even though he'd never been much for video games, if they made her happy he was going to do everything he could to get it for her. Besides, things had been quiet in the ASZ for a while and thanks to Eugene, they had built and installed more solar panels giving them more electricity for things other than necessities.

"You don't want to play because you know I'll win," she challenged, but it didn't even faze him.

"Of course you'll win but that's not why I don't wan't to play," he smirked, his attention never leaving the book he was reading.

Michonne just knew that appealing to his competitive side would entice him to play and she frowned when it didn't. She wouldn't even be bothering him but she really wanted to play Mario Kart against someone other than the computer and Carl was out on a walk with Enid. Playing one player was fun, but not as much fun as playing and talking trash with another person.

She watched him reading out of the corner of her eye and decided if she was going to get him to play, she was going to have to change her tactics.

"I guess I have to play by myself…," she said, mostly to herself.

"I guess you do," he agreed, flipping to the next page of his book.

"Maybe I'll play one of these role playing games. When I was a kid, I used to stay up all night trying to beat those kinds of games," she said making sure her voice was airy, light, and held no trace of her true intentions.

The words "all night" caught his attention causing him to glance up over the edge of his book and he was instantly greeted by the sight of her perfect backside as she bent over the basket of games. The sight caused him to suck in his breath and his mind to go about as far away from video games as it could go.

He cleared his throat, "I'm sure staying up all night playing video games was fun when you were a kid but you wouldn't do that now…"

She felt his eyes on her and the distraction in his voice told her she'd struck the right nerve. She looked over her shoulder with a grin and waited for his eyes to find their way up to her face.

"I don't know, Rick," she shrugged, "I think that depends on how sucked into this game I get."

Her eyes never left his as she spoke, the sexy lilt of her voice doing things to him just like it always did. His mind raced with the myriad of things they wouldn't be doing if she stayed up all night playing video games. She played him like a fiddle and he knew it.

Annoyed at himself for being so easy, he closed his book and moved to sit next her on the floor.

"Go ahead and put the racing one in," he sighed, pretending to be more offended than he really was.

"What are you doing? I thought you didn't want to play." She bit her lip to hold in her giggle and when he tilted his head at her in that sexy way of his, she almost lost it.

He rolled his eyes at her feigned innocence.

"I think I have a game or two in me," he said.

"What changed your mind?" She asked, switching on the game system and handing him the other controller.

"Don't act all coy. You know damn well what changed my mind." He tried to sound irritated but instead he just sounded amused and the heart-stopping smile that appeared on her face, proved him right about her little ploy.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she giggled.

"Sure you don't….c'mon, let's get started. Just know that win or lose, I get to pick the next game," he stated, giving Michonne a look that was designed to tell her exactly what kind of game he had in mind. It definitely wasn't a video game but role playing wasn't completely off the table.

The look he was giving her sent a shiver running down her spine. She raised an eyebrow as she hit the start button and they both started going through the motions of picking their characters.

"I thought the next game was winner's choice…," she began, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

"Not tonight, Michonne. Not tonight."


	4. The House on Magnolia Row

**A/N: This was written got the Richonne Writing Network Halloween challenge. I'd never written anything remotely scary before so this was a lot of fun!**

Rick put his hands on his hips and turned around to find Michonne. It was the first stop on their house hunting journey and he was already done. Their realtor, Andrea, had called the house they were viewing a "fixer upper with a lot of potential". In reality, the house looked like something straight out of a Stephen King novel.

Worry rushed through him when he found his wife meandering around the "cozy" master bedroom looking like she was seriously considering that house being their future home.

It was a rancher, sitting in the middle of a large lot at the end of a dead end street; right across from an elementary school that they were informed was one of the best in Atlanta. A row of tall magnolia trees hid the ugly chain link fence that bordered the schoolyard from the street. The exterior didn't seem to be in bad shape, except for the overgrown front yard and a pressing need for a good power washing, but there was something about that house that just didn't sit right with him.

Even so, it was well inside their small price range and in a great neighborhood with good schools, so he hadn't argued with his wife when she nudged him to have an open mind and at least take a look at the interior. From the second they crossed the threshold, he knew there was nothing they could see in there that was going to change his mind about that house. It was full of wasted space, the closets were tiny, and it lacked natural light but above all of that, all of the interior doors opened out instead of in, telling Rick that whoever built that house must've been completely certifiable.

Putting an offer on that house was completely out of the question. He didn't care if Michonne loved it, or if they got the best, most unheard of deal of all time. Horror Movie House wasn't going to be taken off the market by the Grimes family, and that was that.

"This place gives me the creeps," he announced, not caring that he sounded like a petulant child.

His wife turned around, rubbing her growing baby bump, and he braced himself to tell her no for maybe the third time ever in their three years together.

"Yeah, me too," she agreed, and he'd never been more relieved in his whole life. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her senseless; reminded that her intelligence had been one of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place.

He grinned and asked, "What did it for you? The Bates Motel exterior or the Dark Shadows interiors?"

She shrugged and joined him in the center of the room. "The story did it for me."

He'd made the mistake of asking Andrea why the the house had been unoccupied for so long, and the unexpected but completely believable answer, made his skin crawl. He was a little surprised that it had a similar effect on his wife. Michonne was the type that horror movies couldn't scare because she found them too implausible. She just didn't believe in all that "supernatural nonsense" as she called it. There were too many real life things to be afraid of.

"Really? I didn't think you believed in all that ghost stuff." He draped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

"I don't but that was a hell of a story," she whispered.

He had to agree with her there. The story of the first owner's wife dying in childbirth and his descent into insanity afterwards was enough to unsettle anyone by itself. When you added the part about the next owners just up and abandoning the house in the middle of the night after telling everyone about the strange things they'd seen and heard, it all became too much. He wasn't a true believer in hauntings by any stretch of the imagination, but he wasn't one to press his luck either.

"There's no way in hell we're buying this house, so why are we even in here pretending to look around?"

She sighed and snuggled into his side. "I didn't want to hurt Andrea's feelings. We're her first clients and she even agreed to show us houses after we both got off work."

He never could argue with her when she was being selfless, and helping out an old friend of hers from college with her new career in real estate was one of those times. She was right, though. It was 7:30 at night and they were looking at houses when other realtors had refused to do that. It didn't make up for showing them a real life haunted house, but the gesture was a nice one.

"Only because she didn't want us to see this place in the daylight," he quipped.

She giggled, "You might be right about that."

"We can always put this off a little longer," he suggested, but almost as soon as the words left his lips, she was pulling away from him shaking her head.

"I know, but house hunting with a newborn doesn't sound fun," she explained. She was right. There was a sense of urgency to their house hunting that hadn't been there before. Their one bedroom condo in midtown was already too small and in about 6 months, it was going to be even smaller.

"Besides...I want to have the nursery ready before Vivienne gets here," she continued, patting her growing belly. She was about three months along and it was becoming more visible with each passing day. They'd decided to name the baby after his grandmother if it was a girl, and if it was a boy, he would carry her maiden name.

He rolled his eyes and smiled at the ongoing, playful disagreement between them. They'd decided to wait until their baby was born to find out the sex, and she was adamant about it being a girl. He was just as certain it was a boy, and he made sure to let her know every chance he got.

"You mean before Jackson gets here," he corrected, as his hand joined hers on the swell of her belly. He was nearly bursting with excitement over becoming a father and deep down, he didn't care if they were having a boy or a girl; but he did enjoy messing with her.

She looked over her shoulder and fixed him with a half smile. "Don't you ever get tired of being wrong?" She asked.

He folded his arms over his chest and nodded. "Yeah. That's why I'm so excited to be right about this."

"We'll see about that, Mr. Grimes," she teased.

"Yes we will, Mrs. Grimes."

Laughing, she walked over to the window and pulled her jacket around her body a little tighter.

"Babe, you're shivering. Are you ok?"

She nodded. "Yeah…it just got cold all of a sudden. There must be a draft over by this window."

"Yet another reason not to buy this house," he joked, reaching for her hand and weaving their fingers together. "Let's go let our realtor know we're not interested so we can go home."

"Can we stop at Beautiful on the way home?" She asked; looking up at him with those big brown eyes that made him want to give her the whole world.

"Do my babies want banana pudding…again?"

She laughed and hugged his arm. "Yep, but we want pork chops, collard greens, and candied yams too," she clarified. Her already healthy appetite had only gotten bigger since she got pregnant and he was always bringing things home to satisfy her random cravings.

"I think that's what mama wants but…" The door slamming shut with a bang loud enough to startle them both, cut him off and her hand tightened around his. "What the hell…"

"I guess we can add drafty to the cons list." She was trying not to sound scared, but her voice was a little higher than usual betraying her nervousness.

"Yeah…" He grabbed the knob with his free hand and tried to open the door but it refused to budge. He tugged it a few more times without success, before releasing her hand so he could use both.

"What's wrong?"

He shrugged; his focus completely on that door and their ridiculous situation.

"It's an old house. It's probably just stuck," he answered. It couldn't be anything else. The knob turned easily in his hand but the door remained firmly wedged in the frame. He'd heard that humidity could sometimes make old houses swell, but it was October and Atlanta was enjoying a wonderfully moderate fall. It was inexplicable, but he didn't have time to figure it out so he kept pulling on the door. But then, the lights started flickering, and he was having a hard time explaining that away in his mind so he could get rid of the lump of panic starting to form in back of his throat.

Michonne was handling it well until the lights finally gave out, and they were thrust into darkness.

"Shit!" She screamed, moving close enough to him that he could almost feel her tummy pressing against his back.

"Oh, great. The power's out," he mumbled, trying to downplay that his brain was firing warning signals faster than he could completely process them.

"Rick, I need you to focus on opening that door so we can get the hell out of this creepy ass house," she said, giving up any pretense of being anything other than afraid.

"I'm working on it. How about you call Andrea so she can come try from the other side." He led with his shoulder and threw his body into the door, no longer caring about causing damage to the house.

"Ok." He kept throwing himself at the door until the entire right side of his body throbbed. He didn't stop until he heard Michonne curse under her breath.

He glanced back and saw her staring at her phone wearing a frustrated frown.

"What is it?" He asked.

She sighed and raised her phone over her head as she moved around the room searching for a signal.

"No service," she replied, her voice quivering like she was about to cry. That sound pushed him to try harder and he ignored the pain in his shoulder and continued hitting the door. When it finally started to crack and move, he grinned. That door was going to open or he was going to bust through it. Either way, they were getting out of there.

"It's ok. I think…I almost got it," he grunted, hurling himself against the door for what he hoped was the last time.

It flew open a little too easily; almost like his body wasn't what forced the door open at all. Inertia sent him stumbling out into the dark hallway, where he crashed into the wall with a groan.

"Are you ok?" She yelled.

He nodded, grateful that he'd finally gotten them out. He turned around, grimacing as he rubbed his shoulder. He was going to need a massage and a whole tube of Icy Hot.

"Yeah, I'm…" All he was going to say was forgotten when he saw the dark figure hovering behind his wife. He didn't believe in ghosts, but that didn't matter as fear seized his throat and stole his words. Michonne had her head cocked to one side and was looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and dark eyes full of concern.

"Rick?" She asked, and he opened his mouth to answer but no sound passed between his lips. His heart was threatening to beat right out of his chest and he wanted nothing more than to get them out of that house and he had to pull it together enough to do that.

"We…we gotta go," he stuttered. He'd never heard his voice that shaky, meaning she hadn't either, and it was enough to get her to sense the urgency of their situation.

Her eyes widened and she took a step forward, reaching for his hand. His fingers barely brushed against hers when she gasped as the dark figure grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back.

His racing heart lurched to a complete stop. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. Seeing that…thing…touching his wife, spurred him to action, and he lunged forward to grab her.

"Michonne!" He didn't know what to do when the door slammed shut between them.

"Rick," she screamed; closing her eyes and holding her breath as a pressure similar to that of fingers pressed against her clavicle. None of what was happening could be real. She kept waiting to wake up from whatever weird pregnancy nightmare she was in, but every time she opened her eyes she was still in that house.

Rick's voice kept growing softer like he was getting farther and farther away, making her eyes sting with tears. Every prayer she knew ran through her head at the same time, jumbling together in a unintelligible tangle of religiosity.

She tried to go to the door, but she was tethered to the spot by some unseen force. She shut her eyes tight and renewed her prayers; hoping that Rick would figure out how to get that door open before whatever was keeping her there made its intentions known.

The cold hand on her shoulder was joined by another, and both of them slithered up the sides of her neck to press against her temples. Then, she heard its voice in her head and all around her like she was in some sort of echo chamber.

"Look," it demanded, just as a series of visions began to run through her head like scenes from a movie on fast forward.

She saw herself with Rick at doctors appointments, house hunting, and celebrating when they found the perfect house to buy. All of that was followed by images of them moving in and getting the nursery ready just like she wanted it. Their happiness was so evident and it felt so real. She saw them getting the future they'd always dreamed of and it was beautiful just like she knew it would be.

The scenes slowed and grew darker, bringing her fear back in force and signaling a change she wasn't prepared for. All of the earlier perfection was wiped away by a blood curdling scream and the sight of herself lying in a pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs in that dream home of theirs. Her heart shattered even further when she saw Rick come running and then fall to his knees at her side, brokenly howling her name.

The visions sped up again; taking her through everything from her ambulance ride to their baby being pulled from her in an emergency caesarean. The joy she felt when she heard her baby cry for the first time, was quickly replaced by sorrow when she recognized the significance of the heart monitor's constant hum.

It was already too much, but when she finally saw the doctor tell a devastated Rick that he had a son, but had lost his wife, she screamed and dropped to her knees.

The hands let her go, and she curled up on the floor, sobbing into her hands for the loss of the life she'd always wanted and for the lives of the loved ones she'd leave behind.

"Why are you showing me this?" She cried, struggling to rid her mind of what she had seen.

The voice answered, "You can change it."

"How?" She begged. She'd do absolutely anything to stop that future from happening.

A humorless laugh rang through the room before that disembodied voice offered a cryptic suggestion, "One decision can change everything. Make the right decision."

"What decision?"

When there was no answer, she clamored to her feet and desperately looked around the room but nothing was there. "Please! What decision?"

Again, there was nothing and when the lights burst back to life and the room flooded with warmth, a cold dread settled deep within her soul. How could she live her life knowing that if she made the wrong decision, her son would grow up without a mother? How could she tell Rick that she knew how it was all going to end?

His wife's scream had Rick at the point of hyperventilating, but he kept fighting with that door. He didn't have time to process whatever he'd seen in there with her. It was too much for him to reason with. All he knew, was that he'd rip that whole house down to its foundation with his bare hands to get Michonne out of that room if he had to.

The lights burst back on just as suddenly as they'd gone out, and the door cracked open on its own. When Michonne stepped through it, looking frightened but otherwise no worse for wear, he was able to take his first deep breath since the start of their ordeal.

She was in his arms before he realized he was even moving; his eyes and hands anxiously running across her body searching for any sign of injury. When he was sure she was physically ok, his hands found their way to cup her face and he stared into her deep, brown eyes.

"Are you all right?" He whispered, and he took her nod as permission to embrace her fully; holding her body against his chest so tightly that he could feel her shivering. "I saw…then you screamed and I thought…"

"I know, but can we talk about it after we get out of here?" She was right, but then again she always was. Not wanting to release her for a second, he lifted her into his arms and carried her through the house and out the front door. He was headed straight for the car when Andrea came running to catch up with them. They must've looked completely shell-shocked because she gasped as soon as she was close enough to really see them.

"Michonne! Are you ok? What happened?"

He wanted to rant and rave; let Andrea know that real estate probably wasn't her thing if a haunted house was the first one she'd think to show people. Michonne's hand on his arm made him pause. His eyes met hers and they begged him to let whatever had just happened to them stay between them. He sighed and lowered her to her feet and opened the car door to help her inside.

"I'm just a little tired," she explained to Andrea. "I guess I tried to do too much today."

He secured her in the seat, even fastened her seatbelt before walking around the car and climbing in himself. Andrea tapped on the passenger side window and Michonne lowered it so her friend could stick her head inside.

"Well…what did you guys think of the house?" She asked. "It's so great, isn't it? And it's such a steal! It just needs a little bit of work…"

"It needs an exorcist," he muttered under his breath and Andrea gave them both an incredulous look.

"C'mon! Don't tell me you two are buying in to all that haunted house nonsense," she began.

Michonne interrupted, "Andrea, we don't think this is the house for us. In fact, we've decided to take a break from house hunting until after the baby gets here."

Andrea's eyebrows furrowed as confusion settled in her features. "Are you sure? I have plenty more I can show you," she offered.

"No!" It came from both of them so suddenly, and so in concert that it startled Andrea enough to jump away from the car.

Michonne cleared her throat, "We mean…no thank you. Have a good night, Andrea."

Her hand on his thigh was his signal to start the engine and he did; neither of them sparing Andrea another glance or even a wave. He ran a few stop signs and one traffic light on their way out of that neighborhood, and they were miles away before he relaxed a little bit, and looked over at his wife. She seemed so small in the passenger seat, and she was staring out the window and absently rubbing her tummy.

He reached over and rested one hand on her belly.

"How's Vivienne doing?" They pulled up to a stop light and she looked over at him. Her eyes were wide and teary but she was smiling. She covered his hand with hers, and nodded.

"Jackson is fine."

His eyes widened and he blurted, "Jackson?"

She didn't answer; she'd gone back to just staring out that window like she was off in her own world. He couldn't take it anymore. He needed to know what she'd been through, and why she'd changed her mind about having a girl.

"What happened in that room, Michonne?"

"I can't…talk about it right now. I promise I'll tell you about it later," she said; the tremor in her voice making his heart seize. He didn't want to push her, so he just nodded and kept driving once the light turned green.

"Are you sure about ending the house hunt for now?" He asked. She'd been so adamant about having the nursery ready for the baby that it felt a little off that she had so readily given that up.

"It's the right decision. It has to be, right?" She wasn't making sense, and he was about to tell her so when she grabbed his hand and brought it up to her lips. "Trust me, ok?"

It almost sounded like she was begging, and that set off every alarm bell in his head. It was his nature to want to fix anything that was bothering her, but he couldn't do anything about whatever she was wrestling with as a result of her time in that room. Not until she was ready to share her experience with him.

He didn't understand, but if there was one thing he knew, it was that he trusted Michonne with anything and everything. She would explain everything to him when she was ready. Until then, he was just going to have to wait and keep right on trusting her.

"Ok," he agreed.

They kept driving. He assumed that she still wanted to get food from her favorite place so that's where they were headed. She kept his free hand locked between hers for the entire ride; continuing to silently stare out the window. They were moving further away from that house and the horrors it held for them. He just hoped that they hadn't somehow taken a little piece of it with them.

 ** _A/N: Thank you for reading! I promise I haven't abandoned my other stories. I'm slowly getting there with updates to both Love Tumbles Down and So Alive. I know it's been a awhile but hopefully it's not too much longer._**


	5. Raiders

_Ok, so when I was a kid, I wanted to be Indiana Jones. I have a love for archeology, Egyptology especially, because of six year old me loving Raiders of the Lost Ark. I don't know if there will be more to this. I watched Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade the other night and this popped in my head. I'm honestly trying to finish the stories I already have out there. But I figured writing this would get it out of my system so I can actually focus on those. It was just for fun. I hope you like it! As always, thank you for reading!_

* * *

 **Alexandria, Egypt**

 **1935**

"Last chance, Grimes. You sure you don't want some of this cut? This thing is going to fetch millions on the black market." Rick ignored the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and the throbbing pain in his side. It was probably another broken rib, but there was nothing he could do about it as Negan's men twisted his arms behind his back.

Negan himself stood in front of him, gloating at his apparent victory as the 15th century B.C. Udjat Eye amulet that had once belonged to Pharaoh Hatshepsut, sparkled in his hand. Millions wouldn't be enough for the solid gold artifact with the 12 carat sapphire at its center. It was a priceless piece of history, recently been discovered in a tomb outside Luxor, but stolen right out of the case at the Egyptian Museum the night before it was set to go on display.

The Saviors were the only ones who could pull off a heist like that and their leader, Negan, was known for selling priceless artifacts to the highest bidder. Rick had tracked them from Cairo to a flop house on the outskirts of Alexandria, where he waited until dark to sneak in to steal the eye back. Everything had been going fine, until an unfortunate combination of a wine bottle left on the floor in a room full of light sleepers, ignited a fight he was utterly outnumbered in.

Still, his defiance refused to be tapped down even in the face of almost certain death. He smiled through the throbbing pain in his side and growled, "The amulet belongs in a museum!"

Negan's amused, condescending laugh filled the air. "Looks like being a damn boy scout is finally gonna be the death of you." At his nod, Negan's men tightened their grip on him, and tied his ankles and wrists together. "Drop him in the Nile. He'll make a good meal for a crocodile."

He struggled fruitlessly as three men dragged him toward the river and a horrible death. They'd never find any remains, and he'd be considered missing and presumed dead. It wasn't his own death that terrified him. It was leaving his 10 year old son back in Chicago with that uncertainty for the rest of his life. The boy had already lost his mother. Losing his father too would be too much.

Somehow, through the clatter of his thoughts, he heard the rumble of a motorcycle thundering down the road and getting closer to them by the second. The men holding him, paused to see who was arriving to join their little party. The headlight's beam reached them first, but the bike was coming in hot. No one, not even him, realized the rider was aiming a gun at them until they heard the first few shots.

He flinched when a bullet struck one of the men escorting him to his watery grave. Their grip on him loosened, and it was an opening he had to take. He reared his head back and collided it with one of their faces hard enough to cause the sickening crack of bones shattering. Both men let him go, and he dropped to his knees, waiting for the inevitable gunshot. That would be better that the river. At least, there would be closure that way.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Negan yelled, and the men responded by forgetting about what they were told to do, and running to join Negan in the last remaining truck. The motorcycle skidded to a stop, and the rider took off running toward Negan's getaway truck. He tried to see what was happening, but without the light from the bike, the darkness swallowed everything from his position. All he heard was what sounded like the swish of a sword, and the death cries of wounded men.

The truck lurched into gear and pulled out into the road, a sure sign of Negan choosing to save himself rather than his henchmen. Rick watched as the rider sheathed the sword, and moved toward his bike to follow him, but came sliding to a sudden stop a few feet away from where he was curled up on the ground.

It was the first time the rider had even looked in his direction, and he could tell his presence was causing problems for him. The rider turned back to the truck again, which was almost completely out of view, and kicked the tire of the bike. The mysterious person turned back to him again, and began walking his way. It was only then that he realized with much awe, that a woman had saved his ass.

"Damn!" She mumbled, and even though her face was twisted up in disgust, he was struck dumb by her beauty. Her hair was styled in intricate braids that she'd pulled away from her face and into a long ponytail. She wore a leather coat over a white button down shirt and her tan pants were tucked into dusty, brown boots that laced all the way up to her knees. There was a pistol resting at her slender waist, and a sword strapped to her back. Her dark pecan skin was damp with sweat, and her molasses eyes appraised him as she silently approached him.

The look on her face betrayed the fact that she'd rather be chasing down Negan than wasting time untying him. He was already cramping her style and he didn't even know her name. Soon, she was right on top of him; kneeling before him with a knife in her hand to sever his ropes.

"Who are you?" He asked; rubbing his wrists to get the blood circulating again. Even his nearly numb hands and feet couldn't dampen his curiosity over the identity of his beautiful savior.

"Dr. Michonne Samaha," she replied in a rich, slightly accented, contralto, and the name sparked something in his memory. He'd heard stories about a female Egyptologist who taught at the American University in Cairo, who had a taste for trouble that rivaled his own. The woman standing before him was nothing like he'd imagined. He knew he'd been staring too long when she put her hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes.

"And you must be the famous Rick Grimes," she teased. "You're a little bit far from the Oriental Institute, aren't you?"

He shrugged and climbed to his feet, a little too impressed that she actually knew who he was. It was no time to stoke his own ego by telling her that he spent just as much time globetrotting as he did teaching at the Oriental Institute. Besides, he was way more interested in learning about her.

"I'm here for the Eye of Horus, just like you are," he explained.

She folded her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm here to make sure it makes it back to the Egyptian Museum and doesn't end up as a jewel in some wealthy donor's private collection."

Her meaning was clear and he respected it. Too many artifacts had been stolen from Egypt to only end up in private collections or on display in foreign museums. The only thing he cared about was the Eye of Horus not ending up on the black market. The museum it ended up in was of little concern.

"Well then. I guess we're on the same side," he said. "Any clue where they're headed?"

There was a pause before she spoke, and he could almost see her trying to decide to trust him or not. "There's a buyer in Marrakech who calls himself The Governor. He's been buying artifacts on the black market for years, but lately he's ramped up."

"Any idea why?" He asked.

She shook her head. "He's in deep with the Nazis and who knows what they want the artifacts for."

Rick nodded. The Nazis were collecting religious relics and any other valuable artifacts associated with magic. Rumor had it was that the Fuhrer had a strange fascination with all things supernatural.

"They've been collecting rare artifacts rumored to have magical properties. The amulet they just took is Zahrah's Eye," he began, but the incredulous smile that appeared on he lips at the word magical, became a full blown laugh that completely cut off his train of thought.

She interrupted, "The amulet, that according to myth, the god Horus bound the soul of his mortal lover to that has the power to grant eternal life? You don't believe that fairytale, do you?"

Knowing how insane it sounded, he only shrugged. They didn't have time to argue the finer points of mysticism. They had an amulet to retrieve.

"Let's just say that I've seen some interesting shit over the years."

He was used to women rolling their eyes at him, but there was something about the way she did it that made him want to see it again and again.

"Magical or not, it belongs in a museum," she said, and he bit his lip to hide his smirk.

"Agreed," he winced; the pain in his side becoming too persistent to ignore. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing.

"Are you injured?" She asked.

He groaned, "I'm fine...minus a rib or two."

He felt her eyes tracing him from head to toe like she was trying to decide something about him. His nerves were going crazy. He'd never wanted to pass anyone's test more than he did right then. After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, her full lips curved into a sly grin to match the mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"What do you say we tape up that rib, and go get that amulet, Dr. Grimes?" She didn't wait for him to answer. She just turned around and walked back toward her bike like it was a given that he would follow. If he was being completely honest with himself, he'd known he would go anywhere with her from the minute she cut the rope and set him free. He'd never been one for partners, but there was something different this time. There was something different about her.

"Lead the way." He retrieved his fedora from where it had fallen and hurried to catch up with her. He had a feeling that she wasn't a woman who liked to be kept waiting. "By the way, thank you for saving my life. I owe you one."

She looked over her shoulder and winked at him.

"Yes, you do and I never forget a debt."

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **The Oriental Institute is part of the University of Chicago and the premier school for Egyptology in the United States.**

 **Pharaoh Hatshepsut was a badass. There should be movies about her stealing the throne and having herself called Pharaoh, not queen.**

 **Horus was the Egyptian god of the sky. The eye of Horus was often used to symbolize sacrifice, healing, restoration, and protection.**

 **Zahrah's Eye isn't real. It's something I created as part of an original story. I just dropped Richonne in as a prequel to that lol**


	6. Father's Day

**Father's Day - A One-Shot**

* * *

Michonne walked through the streets of Alexandria, enjoying the warmth of the summer sun on her skin. It was a little after sunrise and the community was already bustling. Crops were being tended, animals were being cared for, and people were chattering away. All of it made her smile because she knew it was what her boys would've wanted, but it also sent the sadness she tried so hard to keep locked away, rushing up inside of her because they weren't there to see it.

She shook her head, trying to stop herself from going down that depressing path. It was a beautiful day and it wouldn't be wasted dwelling on things that happened in the past that couldn't be changed. Her footsteps quickened and she refocused on her plans for the day.

She was on her way to meet Gabriel at the church to talk about the plans for the week, but after that she was free for the entire day and she was going to spend it with her kids.

She'd gotten the idea for a family fun day after overhearing Gracie telling RJ about the Father's Day gift she'd made for Aaron. It had completely slipped her mind that they were celebrating Father's Day that weekend, and while RJ understood that his daddy was up in heaven, she'd seen the wistful look in his eyes as he'd listened to Gracie gush. It had been the same when Judith was his age. She'd always get so sad when the other kids would talk about their daddies, and try to hide it from her. When she noticed RJ doing the same thing, she'd decided right then and there to have a family fun day.

Both children had been so excited when she told them they were going to have a family fun day complete with a picnic by the lake and taking the kites Siddiq had helped them make out for their first flight. Before she left the house, she told Judith to help her brother get ready for the day and to get the picnic basket packed. She'd promised not to be gone too long and she intended to keep her word.

She was about to walk into the church when she heard Eugene's voice ring out from the watchtower.

"Open the gate!"

That was odd. They weren't expecting anyone from the other communities. She turned around and jogged for the gate, wondering who would be making a surprise visit. It was probably Daryl; stopping by to get supplies before disappearing back into the woods, but something told her she should go see for herself.

The gate had opened just a crack when she reached it, and she searched the platform for Eugene. He was peering over the wall, and even from the ground she could tell that every muscle in his body was tight. The nervous pit in her stomach grew. No one they knew would make Eugene react like that. Unconsciously, her hand drifted to the hilt of her sword strapped across her back.

She shouted up to the tower, "Eugene! Who is it?"

He looked down at her and the shaken look on his pale face made her stop in her tracks. His mouth was moving but no sound was coming out, and the fact that whomever was on the other side of the gate had struck him speechless, was enough to send her on high alert. She waved her arms at the person controlling the gate.

"Stop," she shouted, but it was too late. The gate was open,but instead of the trouble she was expecting, all she saw was a lone figure in a hooded cloak. Still, she pulled out her sword and let it rest at her side. She wasn't taking any chances.

"Who are you? What do you want?" She asked.

The figure took a few shaky steps toward her, and there was something a little too familiar in that bow legged gait. She couldn't let that distract her. She lifted her sword and pointed it at him.

"Stop! Don't come any closer until you tell us who you are!"

He stopped, lifted the hood from his head and sent all of the air rushing from her lungs. His hair was longer that it had been when she saw him last. The curls she'd loved so much were back and grazing his collar. The beard was longer too; bushy and completely grey. The only thing about him that hadn't changed were those strikingly blue eyes. They were red rimmed and glassy, but they were his eyes. Eyes she thought she'd only see in her dreams.

"Michonne." He whispered; his voice low and gritty from disuse, but it was accented with that same rough drawl she'd loved so much, and it sent the sword tumbling from her hand.

"Rick..." Her vision blurred from the tears already streaming down her cheeks, and she collapsed to the ground.

He started moving again, and he was on his knees in front of her seconds later. His rough hands found her cheeks and he lifted her face so that she was staring right into his tired and wary eyes that were filled with so much love.

She searched his face; older but still the face she'd dreamed about for the last six years. There were lines and scars she didn't recognize, but she chose to focus on the one she did.

Her trembling fingers traced the scar over his nose before she threw her arms around him and buried her face in the side of his neck. She let her sobs overtake her then, and she cried for whatever he'd gone through that kept him away for so long, for their years apart, and for her joy at him finally being home.

His body shook with sobs to match hers and he just kept mumbling her name over and over again. He smelled like sweat and dirt but beneath that, he still smelled like Rick; woodsy and earthy. His frame felt smaller; she could feel his ribs as he pulled her into his chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for being away for so long," he choked. "I tried to get home to you every day…"

She pulled away from him and he could barely meet her gaze. She could still read him just like she always did. He always wore his guilt like a badge and right then was no different.

She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it just like she always used to, and then clutched it to her heart.

"You don't have to be. You're home now. That's all that matters."

A faint smile appeared on his cracked lips and she couldn't resist the urge to kiss him any longer. As soon as their lips touched, that same electricity sizzled through the air around them and it was like no time had passed at all. It was still Rick and Michonne; just like it had been even before they both realized it.

They broke apart and she finally noticed the whispers all around them. She got to her feet, pulling Rick along with her because she didn't want to let go of him for a second. She didn't know where she was taking him, but she was determined to lead him past the staring Alexandrians so they could talk.

"Judith?" He whispered hesitantly and she nodded to set his mind at ease.

"She's at home, getting ready for a family fun day."

He smiled and shook his head; the disbelief written all over his face.

"Y'all still do those? I'm glad, but I figured she'd be getting too old for that."

"She loves them."

"Good. Do you...do you think she'll remember me?"

"Of course she will. She tells RJ stories about you all the time."

"RJ?"

She stumbled a bit as the realization hit her like a truck. He had no idea about RJ. She hadn't known she was pregnant when he vanished, and now she had to tell him he had a son he'd never met; a son he didn't even know existed. If he felt guilty about leaving her and Judith, missing the birth of his son was going to weigh on him.

"Let's go somewhere and get you cleaned up…"

The option to ease him into the whole thing was snatched away from her when she glimpsed Judith running toward them with RJ struggling to keep up with her. She was wearing Carl's hat, and she had the Colt strapped to her hip, while RJ was carrying the wooden practice katana he'd gotten for his birthday.

Rick froze; his eyes fixed on their daughter as she bounded toward them. She saw that he was crying again; covering his mouth with his free hand as he laid eyes on his baby girl who'd grown so much in the last six years. She knew he was seeing the ghosts of his past running toward him; Lori, Carl, possibly even Shane. He probably hadn't yet noticed the little boy that represented the future they'd wanted so badly.

Judith came skidding to a stop, her eyes narrowed as she stared at Rick.

"Ju…Judith?"

She didn't respond right away; she only continued to stare at him until she took a few cautious steps toward them. RJ lingered behind; he was always a little shy around people he didn't know. For once, Michonne was grateful for that. She had a feeling that both of them approaching him at the same time would've been too much for him.

He dropped to his knees as Judith got closer and Michonne saw the skeptical look on her daughter's face, fade into one of recognition. She placed her tiny hands on his face as her eyes filled with tears.

"Daddy?" She whispered. "Are you real?"

"Yeah, honey. I'm real," he confirmed, his voice thick with emotion. "Do you remember me?"

She nodded, and threw herself into his arms. Their sobs filled the air as Rick covered her face and hair with kisses.

Michonne left them to their reunion and walked over to where RJ was standing. His eyes were wide and confused and they focused on her as she scooped him up into her arms.

"Mommy? Why is Judy crying? Who's that man?" He asked.

She took a deep breath and decided to just tell him straight out. The father who'd only existed in Judith's drawings and in stories was suddenly there in the flesh. It was no time to ease him into it.

"That man is your daddy, baby," she explained, and then she waited as RJ seemed to process that information.

"My daddy?" He asked; cocking his head to the side in that way that always reminded her of Rick.

"That's right. He was gone a long time but he made it back to us. Do you want to go meet him?" She asked; waiting as RJ watched his sister and Rick hug for a moment before nodding slowly.

She turned around and headed back to the rest of their family; her heart pounding in her chest as she anticipated introducing Rick to his son. It was a moment she'd dreamed about for years, but never thought would happen.

As they approached, Rick and Judith separated and he rose to his full height. His face wore the same confused expression that had been on RJ's face moments earlier. She could only imagine the thoughts rolling through his head as his eyebrows knitted together. His gaze was fixed on RJ and it only took a second before his eyes shot up to hers, asking a question he already knew the answer to.

They could always communicate without words and they still could. A flood of emotions flashed in Rick's eyes; everything from surprise, to regret, to worry, to love. Then, his face crumbled and he dragged his hands through his hair. She could tell it was taking everything in him to keep it together and it was the same for her.

As they got closer, their son became more shy and he rested his head against her chest, and tightened his grip around her neck. She stopped walking about a foot away from Rick and Judith, smiling through the tears quickly filling her eyes.

Rick took the lead and closed the distance between them.

"Hey there, little guy. What's your name?" He asked.

"Richard James Grimes but my mommy calls me RJ," the boy answered in a voice clear and strong.

Rick glanced up at her, before he rested his eyes on his son again. "It's very nice to meet you, RJ. Do you know who I am?"

RJ nodded and answered, "You're my daddy."

The tears Rick had been barely holding in started streaming down his cheeks.

"Yeah, I am. Can I…can I hug you?"

RJ looked up to her for approval, so she nodded; then he looked down to Judith who was still holding tightly to Rick's hand. He studied his father for a minute before he launched himself out of her arms and into his without giving him too much time to react. Rick stumbled backwards but he caught RJ easily with his free arm.

He held him close for a long time; hugging and kissing him just as ferociously as he had Judith.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, son?"

RJ looked between her and his father before asking his question.

"Are you gonna go away again?"

The question made Rick cry even harder and hold on to their son even tighter.

"No, RJ. I'll never leave you guys again," Rick promised.

She swatted at the tears on her cheeks; the sight of her reunited family too much for her. Judith was still wrapped around his leg and RJ was squeezing his neck, and her husband looked years younger with his face illuminated with unbridled happiness. They had a lifetime to talk about what had happened in the years they'd been apart; where he'd been and why it had taken him so long to get back. All that mattered right then was the fact that they'd somehow found each other again, and their kids had their father back.

Rick must've noticed that she was lost in her own head because he stepped forward and tugged her into the hug, planting his lips against her forehead.

"I missed you every day," he said.

"We missed you too," she agreed. "How about we go home?"

Rick nodded and started walking with her toward the townhouse.

"Daddy, guess what day it is?" Judith asked.

"Your mama told me it's a family fun day," he laughed.

"It's Father's Day too!" RJ gleefully added.

"Is it?"

Both Judith and RJ nodded emphatically, but then RJ's little face fell.

"But we didn't make a present for you like Gracie made for her daddy," he said mournfully.

Rick kissed the top of RJ's head; his smile threatening to split his face.

"It's ok," he said, meeting her gaze with one filled with so much love. "You, your sister, and your mama are the only gifts I need."

* * *

Got that out of my system, now back to my other stories. Updates to all three are right around the corner. Thanks for reading and let me know what you think! And Happy Father's Day to all the dads, stepdads, like a dads, moms playing both roles, dads to fur babies...the whole shebang!


	7. Saturday Morning

_I found this hiding in my documents. It probably takes place in the same universe as Valentine's Family Fun Day. It was based on a prompt from The Richonne Writing Network._

* * *

 **Saturday Morning**

The sound was faint but Rick heard it clearly through the baby monitor. He blinked awake and climbed out of bed in a hurry to go check on his son before his cries awakened his wife.

Actually, he was surprised that she was still sleeping. It was RJ's first night sleeping in the nursery instead of in the bassinet in their room and Michonne was having a hard time letting go. After a lot of discussion, she finally agreed to give it a try on a Friday night so that if he was fussy, no one had anywhere to be the next morning. Before they'd gone to bed she'd handed him the monitor to keep on his side of the bed saying, "he's your kid before 5am" but the smile that didn't quite meet her eyes told him she'd said that to make it seem like she wasn't as affected by the new sleeping arrangements as she was.

That was made perfectly obvious after he spent the first few hours after bedtime reassuring her that RJ was going to be fine. She couldn't fall asleep, she was so busy listening for any sign of distress from the 8 week old in the next room. He ended up resorting to a few of the more enjoyable tricks he kept up his sleeve to get her to finally relax and he was so grateful when she finally drifted off.

According to the clock, she'd only been asleep for about three hours. He knew she was tired, but he didn't realize just how tired until the infant's fussing didn't immediately wake her. After turning off the baby monitor, he stumbled down the hallway toward the nursery which was closer to Carl's room instead of Judith's because the 8 year old slept like a rock while his 4 year old sister would wake up if the wind blew hard outside her window. His hand had just touched the doorknob when he heard a quiet voice from inside the nursery.

"Shh RJ…don't cry. It's gonna be ok…"

Rick quietly pushed the door open a crack and nearly lost it as he took in the scene. Carl was standing beside the crib with his hand poking through the slats, gently rubbing RJ's tummy.

"…go back to sleep. I'm your big brother and I won't let anything happen to you," he whispered before trying to hum the tune he'd heard Michonne hum to him and Judith so many times before.

Rick was rooted to the spot watching his older son do everything he could to comfort his younger one and etching it all into his memory.

RJ's steadily escalating whimpers brought him back into the present and though he hated disturbing that moment, he stepped into the room not wanting to risk waking up Michonne.

He padded over to the crib and scooped RJ up in his arms before turning his attention to Carl. "Hey, son. Did RJ wake you up?"

The boy shook his head, "No…I had to go to the bathroom and I heard him crying. I tried to get him to stop before he woke up you and Michonne…"

Rick nodded as he was reminded of how thoughtful Carl was and had always been.

"Carl...thank you. You're an awesome big brother but you don't have to do that. Michonne and I will take care of RJ."

"I know but I like taking care of him too," said Carl with more conviction than any eight year old had a right to.

He smiled and squeezed Carl's shoulder. "Ok…you go on back to bed now. It's way too early for you to be up."

"Can I stay and help? Please?" Carl was looking up at him with those big blue eyes and Rick couldn't tell him no.

"Ok…but only for a little while." He felt Carl watching him intently as he gently patted RJ's back trying to coax him back to sleep, but RJ wasn't having any of it.

"Do you think he might be hungry?" Carl suggested and even though he was already walking toward the door to get a bottle, Rick only smiled and shrugged.

"Maybe. Do you want to go warm up a bottle with me so we can find out?" Carl nodded and followed him out of the nursery and down the stairs to the kitchen.

* * *

They settled into the couch and he fed RJ while Carl curled in next to him; his hand lightly brushing RJ's fuzzy dark hair. The infant was fighting a losing battle against sleep and Carl giggled every time his eyes would flutter shut before popping back open a few seconds later.  
He finally gave up the struggle and drifted off to sleep when his bottle was done; his cute little mouth hanging open even after Rick took the bottle away. He smiled to himself, feeling satisfied that he'd been able to handle everything without disturbing Michonne.

"Well...looks like we can all get back to bed now...," he whispered; his bed and his wife's warm body calling to him like a beacon. The weight on his lap where

Carl had laid his head didn't move and he realized that the reason he'd been so quiet was that he'd fallen asleep too.

He shifted RJ in his arms so the baby was resting against his chest, freeing his arm to wrap around Carl and let his head fall back against the cushions. He sighed and he closed his eyes, a smile playing on his lips as he resigned himself to his sleeping arrangement; thankful that Michonne had talked him into buying that overstuffed, reclining sofa.

* * *

When Michonne woke up, the sun was blaring through the blinds and her husband was missing. She eagerly climbed out of bed to check on RJ in the nursery and found that he was gone too. Carl's door was open, his bed empty way too early for a Saturday morning and after checking on a still sleeping Judith, she made her way downstairs in search of her boys.

She expected the sound of the television or Carl excitedly talking to his dad about the baseball game they were going to later that day, but downstairs was quiet except for the mechanical hum of the appliances. She walked through the kitchen where she found evidence of a feeding and she was about to look out onto the back deck when she caught a glimpse of Rick's disheveled curls peeking over the back of the sofa.

"Here you are! I was just about to..." Her words drifted off when she stepped into the family room and found Rick asleep on the couch with RJ sleeping on his chest and Carl sleeping with his head on his lap. He had one arm resting on Carl and the other securing RJ. All three had their mouths hanging open as their gentle breathing filled the air.

"My boys...," she thought, fighting happy tears as she backed out of the room and raced upstairs to get her phone knowing that a photo wouldn't be able to capture the love she saw, but needing to try...just in case.


	8. Merry Christmas, Baby

**Merry Christmas, Baby**

A Christmas one-shot with our faves inspired by the canon couch kiss.

* * *

It was Christmas Eve, and Michonne Hawthorne was standing behind the counter of The Buttercream Bake Shop finding it difficult to get into the Christmas spirit. She'd decorated her home just like she always did, watched It's a Wonderful Life and How the Grinch Stole Christmas; she'd sponsored an Angel Tree child and gone to the county tree lighting. Still, there was a sadness in her that she couldn't quite resolve.

She'd never admit it to anyone, but her love life or the lack thereof, was the root cause of her funk. She'd survived another year without having someone to kiss on New Years Eve, without a Valentine, without a date to her best friend's wedding, without needing to find the perfect couples costumes for Halloween, without having to split her Thanksgiving between two families, and it weighed on her more than it used to.

Maybe it was because she'd turned 38 that summer and she saw her chances of finding someone to spend her life with slipping even further away. Maybe it was the fact that it was becoming less likely that she'd ever have children of her own. Or maybe it was because loneliness had crept into her heart and taken root there, and no matter what she did, she couldn't shake it.

It hadn't always been like this. For a long time, she'd thought she'd found the person to do all of those things with. Mike had been her study partner for a killer torts class in law school, and eventually he'd become more. They'd fallen in love, moved in together, graduated together, began their legal careers together; and after a decade of being together, she'd believed that was the way it would always be. But after a pregnancy scare had revealed that Mike never wanted kids, that certainty had gone up in smoke.

Five years later, she was still single and trying to navigate King County's less than stellar dating scene. In the last year alone, she'd gone out with Ezekiel, the really sweet but way over the top high school drama teacher. Then, her mama had set her up with her friend Deanna's son, Spencer, but he'd been a bit of a mama's boy. Finally, there was Siddiq, the hot doctor with the wandering eye. After him, she'd sworn off men for a while, and thought maybe they were more trouble than they were worth.

Now it was Christmas, and it felt like the whole world was conspiring against her ever getting out of her funk. It had all started when her little sister Jackie had her first baby a few days after Thanksgiving and had practically begged their mother to come up to Philadelphia to help her. Not that she needed to beg. Sandra Hawthorne's bags had been packed and waiting for the call for weeks. She was supposed to come home for Christmas, but instead she'd summoned their daddy up to spend the holiday with his new grandson. They'd asked Michonne to come too, but she had a stack of cake orders to fill by Christmas, leaving Michonne alone for the holiday for the first time in her life.

Christmas week played a large role in whether or not The Buttercream Bake Shop ended its first year in the black, and Michonne was bound and determined that her little bakery was going to make it. Her mom's offhand comment about Cakes by Maybelle closing its doors after the death of Ms. Maybelle a year ago, had reignited a fire in her that she'd almost forgotten about. Owning a bakery had been her dream ever since she was a little girl helping her grandmother make her famous lemon pound cake.

She'd allowed the idea to simmer in the back of her mind for a few weeks, until she couldn't ignore it any more. She gave up her unfulfilling legal career in Atlanta, moved back to King County, and invested practically everything she had into Maybelle's old storefront on the town square. The modernization had taken months, and had wheedled her savings away to practically nothing, but it had all been worth it the day she'd opened the doors to the public for the first time.

The little bell over the door jingled and she looked up to see a man in a familiar khaki uniform brushing snow off his shoulders. She glanced at the clock and smiled. He was right on time, and she didn't want to admit to herself how much she looked forward to seeing her visitor.

"Hey, Sheriff Grimes," she greeted.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Rick?"

"When you're in that uniform, you're always gonna be Sheriff Grimes," she teased.

Rick Grimes had barely turned 33 when he became sheriff of King County, making him the youngest sheriff ever elected in the state of Georgia. That was eight years and two elections ago, but the town still loved him. Even her mama gushed about him, saying, "God bless Sheriff Grimes" after every conversation she had with him. He was the closest thing King County had to a celebrity.

He'd also been the first boy she'd ever had a crush on, but that was more than twenty years ago and it had nothing to do with the way her heart always sped up a little bit whenever he walked through her door. More relevant was the fact that somewhere over the last year he'd become one of her best friends too.

"Coffee?" She asked.

He chuckled and walked up to the counter, his blue eyes sparkling happily.

"I thought this was a bakery not a coffeehouse," he countered.

She rolled her eyes and reached for a mug. He was referencing the review of the Buttercream Bake Shop in the County Courier that maligned the fact that she didn't serve vanilla lattes.

"It is, but I just made a pot and I'm willing to share."

She handed him the steaming cup of coffee with a little bit of sugar, just the way he liked it and he nodded appreciatively after taking a sip.

"You know, your coffee's the best in the square. You should sell it."

She snorted, "Maybe when I can finally hire some help around here, I will. Right now, it would just be another thing for me to deal with."

"Keep selling out this case and that day'll be here before you know it."

She smiled and looked at the handful of cupcakes and cookies left after the midday rush.

"Yeah, today was a good day."

"I see," he agreed. "What I don't see is one of those orange cookies…"

"The Italian Orange Ricotta Cookies?" He nodded and she shrugged, "You're late. I sold out of those about an hour ago."

His smile faded slightly.

"That's too bad."

"Good thing I saved you a couple."

His lips spread into a wide grin when she pulled out a little bakery bag with two of his favorite cookies inside.

"Michonne…you're amazing!"

He was looking at her in the way that always made her heart beat a little faster, and she was grateful when Mrs. Johnson pushed through the door to pick up her Sweet Potato Pound Cake.

She cleared her throat and smiled at her long retired sixth grade teacher, "Hi Mrs. Johnson. You didn't have to come out in this weather. I would've delivered your cake."

"Hello, Michonne dear. My grandson is right outside. He came to get me for Christmas early because of the snow."

"Nick was always a good kid. Your cake is in the back. Let me go get it."

"Take your time, dear. Sheriff Grimes will keep me company," the old woman said as she looped her arm through Rick's.

Michonne laughed and stepped into the kitchen where the old flirt's cake was waiting on the counter. She couldn't really blame her though, Rick Grimes was a very handsome man with his dark hair and sky blue eyes. There was also that deep drawl of his that sent shivers through her, and that sexy bowlegged strut…

She shook those thoughts away. She must really be lonely if she was letting her decades old crush on Rick Grimes command her thoughts. They were just friends and that was for the best. Besides, based on his ex-wife and the women he'd gone out with since, she was definitely not his type.

She brought Mrs. Johnson's cake from the back just in time to hear her trying to set him up with her granddaughter. A relieved Rick grabbed the cake box from her and carried it out to her grandson's car before she could protest.

"You have a Merry Christmas, Mrs. Johnson."

"You too dear."

A few minutes later, Rick came back inside. His cheeks were pink from the cold and he had snowflakes in his hair. She sighed and thought back to the weather report that morning. She'd laughed out loud when WTKR weatherman Cooper Carlson predicted a white Christmas for King County. From the looks of things, Cooper had been right.

"It's really starting to come down out there," she commented. "Glad I'm closing soon."

"Yeah…I hope you already went to the grocery store. They're all out of eggs and milk, and I just had to break up an altercation between Nancy O'Brian and Sharon Evans over the last loaf of bread."

She laughed, "I went yesterday before the confirmation of the coming snowpocalypse, so I'm set."

"Good."

"You know, I've never understood the significance of bread, eggs, and milk. Does a snow storm make everyone suddenly crave French toast?"

He shrugged and laughed, "I don't know, but I like your reasoning. I'm a big French toast fan from way back."

She smiled, thinking of the Sunday mornings she'd find him at the diner with his kids enjoying a huge platter of French toast with bacon. Usually, she'd grab her to-go order and escape with just a wave, but sometimes she'd accept his invitation to join them. That's how she'd gotten to know his son, Carl and daughter, Judith outside of their visits to the bakery. They were such good kids, and they had a good dad.

She leaned across the counter and rested her chin in her palm.

"Tomorrow's Christmas. Did you find that doll Judith was asking for and the video game Carl wanted?" She asked. He'd been stressing about this gifts for weeks after everywhere was pretty much sold out.

"According to the photo in my Amazon Prime account, they were delivered a little after I left this morning," he replied; grinning like he'd won the lottery.

"Nick of time! Nice work, sheriff."

He nodded, but then his smile faded and he turned his attention back to the falling snow.

"Yeah…but it doesn't matter. Lori picked them up last night. I forgot that since I had them for Thanksgiving, she has Christmas this year."

Her heart went out to him. They'd never really talked about it, but according to her mother, Rick had gotten divorced a little under two years ago. He'd been married to Lori Smith; the girl she'd watched him walk down the halls of their high school with all those years ago. They'd been the homecoming King and Queen of King County back then, and everyone thought they'd always be together until they abruptly weren't. For what she'd heard, it was an amicable split; but from the dejected look on Rick's face right then, she could tell that it was still hard on him.

"I'm sorry, Rick."

"Don't be. I had them last year, so it's her turn. It's just…it's my first Christmas without them so it's gonna be strange being on my own."

"That's true…but you have the snow to keep you busy, right? I'm sure King County will need Sheriff Grimes to guide it through the storm of the century," she teased.

He shook his head.

"Actually, I'm off for the next few days. I marked them out when I thought I'd have the kids and a lot of the younger deputies already volunteered for the overtime. Looks like I'll be snowed in just like everybody else," he explained. "How are you spending your Christmas Eve? Is your mama having half the town over for her annual Christmas Eve caroling walk?"

She groaned when she thought of all the years she'd been forced to walk through the streets of King County singing Christmas carols to whomever would listen. They'd have a thermos full of hot chocolate and plates filled with sugar cookies to pass out as they went along. She'd actually been looking forward to doing it that year for the first time in so long, but her mom was out of town and there was no way she was going on her own.

She shook her head.

"My parents are in Philly with my sister, so it's just me this year. But I should have a crock pot full of roast beef with carrots and potatoes waiting for me at home. Other than that, I was planning on making boozy hot chocolate and watching Christmas Vacation. You?"

"Me? I'm planning on having the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye!"

They laughed, and went back and forth with more quotes from the movie before he continued, "Really, I'm just gonna go home and watch tv. My dad is spending Christmas in Alexandria with my brother and everyone else is doing their own thing."

She stared at his profile as he sipped his coffee. It was Christmas Eve and both of them were planning on spending it all alone. Something about seeing how sad he was about it, made the walls she'd built up to prevent herself from being sad about her own lonely Christmas come crumbling down.

"Since we're both on our own, why don't you join me?"

The words burst from her lips before she even had a chance to think about them. She'd just invited Rick Grimes to spend Christmas Eve with her and she couldn't believe she'd done it.

He was staring at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes that made her want to retract her invitation to spare both of them from him rejecting her. She was about to do just that when he tilted his head to the side.

"Are you sure?" He asked. "I wouldn't want to impose."

She shrugged like it was no big deal at all, even though it was a very big deal and her insides were full of butterflies because of it.

"Yeah. No one should be alone on Christmas Eve, right?"

He nodded as his lips curved into a half smile.

"Alright then. What can I bring?"

She really didn't need him to bring anything but she had a feeling he was the type who would refuse to show up empty handed.

"Umm…maybe a bottle of wine to go with dinner?" She suggested.

"Will do. What time should I be there?"

After calculating the amount of time it would take her to get home, shower and change, and get dinner together, she replied, "6".

"Can I pick a movie?" He asked.

"Sure," she said with a shrug. "It has to be a Christmas movie though."

That crooked grin she'd adored in high school appeared on his handsome face and it sent her heart fluttering just like it had back then.

"Deal," he agreed, finishing his coffee and handing the cup back to her before covering his head with his sheriff's hat. He placed his hand on the door and was about to leave when he turned back and fixed her with a serious stare.

"Be careful going home," he said. "The roads are already slick."

"I will," she answered with a nod. "See you tonight."

"I'll be there," he confirmed; the serious look replaced by a much gentler one. "It's a date."

He was out the door a second later and she bit her bottom lip as she watched him make his way down the sidewalk to his patrol car. She'd just invited Rick Grimes into her home for Christmas Eve with her and he'd accepted. Topping it off, he'd used the word date…

She shook her head, reminding herself that his use of that word was just a figure of speech, but that didn't stop the fifteen year old version of herself from dancing around inside of her. She took a few deep breaths and got herself together before flipping the sign on the door from open to closed a few minutes earlier than she was supposed to. She had to get home and get ready for her guest. She kept telling herself it was just dinner and maybe a movie, but that did nothing to stop the excitement she felt.

It wasn't a date; but maybe…just maybe…it was the beginning of something she'd hadn't realized she still wanted. Maybe she wasn't completely over her schoolgirl crush on Rick Grimes.

* * *

At precisely 6pm, Rick Grimes got his nerves in check and knocked on Michonne's door. It was still snowing; they were well over the two inches the weatherman had called for and it showed no signs of slowing down. A blizzard in Georgia could only be a result of climate change but right then, he didn't mind so much. He was about to spend Christmas Eve with the most beautiful woman in King County and if he happened to get snowed in while he was there…well…if that happened, you'd never hear him complain about it.

He wasn't sure why she'd asked him to spend Christmas Eve with her, but he was certainly glad she did. He'd had a schoolboy crush on her ever since the day she'd breezed into town to reopen the bakery on Main Street, but he hadn't worked up the nerve to do anything about it other than show up at her counter everyday under the guise of love for her Italian Orange Ricotta Cookies. The cookies were good, but his taste for those was nothing compared to the craving he had for their baker.

He didn't really remember her from high school; seniors barely associated with juniors so freshmen had been just kids to him back then. Still, when her mother had introduced them, he'd kicked himself for not remembering her. She was just so damn pretty, especially when she was wearing that cute yellow apron with her hair piled up in a messy bun on top of her head. If she had a bit of cake batter on her forehead or flour on her nose, the crazy fluttering in his chest whenever she was around went into overdrive.

The door squeaked open and there she was looking more beautiful than he'd imagined and the grip he had on the wine bottle he'd brought, tightened. Her fluffy, red sweater hung off one shoulder, revealing a mesmerizing swath of her smooth, glowing skin. His eyes traced down to her black leggings that hugged the curves of her hips like he wished he could, and he had to remind himself to not let his gaze linger on her body for too long. He didn't want to come off as a creeper.

She greeted him with that gorgeous smile he'd gotten so used to and waved him inside.

"Get in here! It's freezing!" She demanded; and he chuckled and stepped past her into the house that was small, cozy, and smelled of roasted meat and mouthwatering spices. The fireplace was giving off just the right amount of heat, and her tall Christmas tree was all lit up in the corner by the window. A jazzy version of Sleigh Ride was pouring out of her speakers and all of it suited her perfectly.

"Nice place," he complimented, and she looked around and shrugged.

"Thanks. It's small but it's all I need really. The rent is cheap, so that's a plus."

She moved into the kitchen and shoved a pan into the oven.

"You can hang your coat on the rack. Dinner is almost ready. Want some wine?"

"You told me to bring wine," he said, holding up the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon he'd picked up after googling what wine paired well with pot roast.

She giggled, and poured some wine into an empty glass before handing it to him.

"Well...you can never have too much wine."

He took the glass and brought it to his lips.

"Thanks. Do you need help with anything?"

"Yeah, do you mind putting the roast on the table?"

"Not at all."

He joined her in the small kitchen where the roast was waiting and it looked even better than it smelled. It had been a long time since he'd had a home cooked meal like that and his stomach growled in anticipation. His mother had passed away a long time ago, taking her home cooking to the grave with her. Lori hadn't been the best cook, and while he was capable of ensuring that he and the kids didn't starve, he was definitely not capable of putting on the spread before him.

She pointed at the serving dish filled with roast beef, potatoes, and carrots, and he carried it over to the dinette which was already set for two.

"I'm just waiting for the rolls to brown and then we can eat," she said.

"That's good because I didn't know how hungry I was until I smelled all this."

She joined him at the table with a bowl of green beans and a big smile on her face.

"It's been a long time since I've cooked for anyone but myself so don't get your hopes up too high."

A few minutes later, both of them were sitting at the table with their plates piled high with food, and as they ate, Rick could barley stop himself from groaning in bliss at how good everything was. The meat was flavorful and so tender that it practically melted in his mouth, the vegetables were perfectly done, and the rolls were buttery and soft. He didn't even feel bad when he greedily accepted her offer of seconds. It was the best meal he'd had in ages, and he made a point of telling her exactly that between bites.

When they weren't eating, they talked about anything and everything from her previous life as a corporate attorney in Atlanta to her decision to follow her dreams and move back home to open a bakery. He told her about deciding to run for sheriff and being surprised that he'd actually won that first time, and being just as surprised every time they re-elected him.

It was easy talking to Michonne. One of the many reasons his marriage had failed had been his inability to talk to Lori, but with Michonne, it was like he wanted to tell her everything about everything. Even he thought it was a little strange that he felt like he could open up to this woman he hadn't known that long, but it didn't stop him from doing exactly that.

After dinner, they kept talking and laughing as he helped her clean up. He'd never been happier to wash dishes in his life as he stood next her at the sink; so close that their shoulders brushed together whenever they moved.

The crush he had on Michonne Hawthorne was becoming so much more with every passing minute, but he still wasn't sure if the feeling was mutual. He needed to know before he gave in to his desires and made a total ass out of himself if she only saw him as a friend.

Once everything was clean, they sat on her couch and she started the movie. It was one of his favorites too, and it was fun watching with her because she would say the best lines under her breath right along with it. She'd laugh so hard that tears would stream down her cheeks and that's when he lost interest in what was on the screen and focused on her because that laugh sent joy racing through his entire body.

When the movie ended, she disappeared into the kitchen to make her famous boozy hot chocolate and he immediately missed her presence and warmth. She was back minutes later with two streaming mugs topped with whipped cream.

"So what movie did you bring?"

He got up and went over to the bag he'd brought with him.

"Only the best Christmas movie of all time," he said, holding up the dvd case.

She gasped and narrowed her eyes.

"Die Hard? Really? That's not even a Christmas movie."

He walked over to her tv and replaced her movie with his.

"It takes place at Christmas therefore it's a Christmas movie," he explained.

She scoffed, "I feel like that's a loophole."

He rejoined her on the couch and took his hot chocolate from her. Even though he loved Die Hard, the frown on her face weakened his resolve to watch it.

"If you don't want to watch it, we don't have to," he began.

She cut him off.

"No, we can watch it," she sighed; tucking her legs under her on the couch. "You're lucky I like this movie too."

Two hours later, the movie was over and they were on their second cup of hot chocolate. He felt a little woozy; like he was drunk but that was impossible after a glass of wine and boozy hot chocolate.

He glanced over at Michonne and noticed that her eyes were a little glassy.

"What the hell did you put in these hot chocolates?" He asked.

"Fireball," she slurred. "I might've been a little heavy handed with it though."

He got to his feet and walked over to the window. It looked like a winter wonderland outside. King County didn't know how to deal with an inch of snow and it looked like there were at least five inches on the ground already. They were going to be shut down for weeks.

"The snow...it's coming down harder."

"Isn't it supposed to be tapering off?" She asked.

"It's definitely not tapering. I should go before it gets worse."

"You can't. You're drunk," she protested.

He chuckled, "Oh yeah. Your 90 proof hot chocolate did me in."

"I can't help it if you're a lightweight," she teased; a mischievous grin dancing on her full lips.

He flopped back down on the couch next to her.

"Please. You're just as toasted as I am."

She shrugged and giggled, "Yeah, I am. Thank you for accepting my invitation and saving me from being drunk and alone on Christmas Eve."

He stared over at her; her eyes had fluttered shut and that smile was still on her lips. There was no scenario he could imagine that would explain why a woman as beautiful and amazing as she was would ever be alone.

"I was surprised when you invited me over tonight," he said; voicing his confusion over why he was there instead of someone else.

Her brows furrowed and her eyes opened; those deep brown pools fixed on him in curiosity.

"Why?"

He grabbed on to the liquid courage coursing through his veins. He'd opened that door, so he might as well step on through.

"I just figured you would have someone here to cozy up with."

She snorted, "Like who?"

"You were going out with that guy not too long ago. Zane? Zack?"

"Zeke. That was months ago and it was only a handful of dates."

"Didn't seem that way to me. Every time I stopped by the bakery, he was there, saying shit like, I couldn't go all day without setting eyes on my fair lady."

He frowned at the memory of Zeke kissing her hand and fawning all over her. Honestly, he'd been a nice guy and that was why he hated him. Zeke had actually had the potential to steal Michonne away from him before he'd even had a chance to make his move.

She giggled and shoved his arm playfully.

"He's a classically trained actor!"

"He's something all right…anyway, you've got a line of guys trying to flirt with you across the case."

She gasped; disbelief written all over her face.

"I do not!"

"You do too! You're just too focused on selling cupcakes to notice them staring at your…cupcakes."

She shoved him again, clicking her tongue as if to dismiss everything he'd said.

"That hot chocolate is making you delusional."

He shook his head.

"No. I'm the only one seeing things clearly."

She frowned, and it created the cutest little dimple between her eyebrows.

"What about you, huh? King County's most eligible bachelor should've definitely had someone to cuddle up with on Christmas Eve. What happened to Jessie?"

He had to smile at the derision in her voice at the mention of the woman he'd dated for a month or so. Maybe it meant that she'd been just as bothered by him going out with Jessie, as he'd been about her and Zeke. Could she be jealous? If so, she had nothing to be jealous about.

She cleared her throat, still waiting for an answer but honestly, he didn't have one he was ready to share, so he dodged the question.

"You got anymore hot chocolate in there?"

He tried to stand up, but she tugged him back down to the couch, laughing.

"Don't run away! What happened there? You were going all out for her."

He groaned, remembering what an ass he'd made out of himself over a woman he didn't even have strong feelings for. Expensive dates, her favorite cookie from the bakery waiting for her every day at the real estate office she worked at, spending every spare minute he didn't spend with his children with her. All of that to realize that she wasn't right for him and she'd never been, because he was hung up on the sexy baker that made it hard to think straight when he was in her presence.

"Thank God I came to my senses," he mumbled, and that made her look of confusion go even deeper.

"What do you mean?"

He sighed. He wasn't going to get out of telling the story so he resigned himself to telling it.

"We had fun at first...then I realized why I'd been attracted to her," he shrugged. "...she reminded me of my ex back when things were good. Even though she was pretty and sweet, it wasn't her I wanted. It was that old life. Crazy huh?"

"No. I get it."

He took a deep breath and continued, "Besides…there's someone else I think I might have feelings for."

Her gorgeous eyes widened and her eyebrows shot up.

"Oh?" She asked, her voice coming out higher than he'd ever heard it. Then, she downed what was left of her hot chocolate in one gulp. "Who's the lucky lady?"

He chuckled at how oblivious she was to what he was getting at.

He shifted so he was sitting even closer to her.

"What would you say if I told you that the cookies aren't what makes me stop by the bakery every day and the real reason is that I've been crushing on the baker for the last year?"

Her eyes searched his and he saw the exact moment when realization dawned in them. He saw a flicker of joy before she quickly shuttered it and laughed nervously.

"I'd say that this must be all that hot chocolate talking..."

"It's not and I can prove it."

"How?"

He felt her stare as he went over to his coat on the coat rack, pulled out the object he'd tucked into his pocket just in case, and held it behind his back as he rejoined her on the sofa.

"Close your eyes," he commanded.

She twisted her lips and appraised him skeptically before sighing and doing as he'd asked.

"If it's a gift, I hope you remembered that I really like chocolate."

He smiled, pulling the object from behind his back and holding it up.

"It's not a gift, but I'll keep that in mind," he promised. Her dark lashes fluttered against her cheeks and her full lips were tilted up into a smirk. This was it. In about a minute, he'd know how she felt about him either way. He glanced over at the clock and was surprised to see that it was 12:01. It was officially Christmas and he was about to find out if his Christmas wish was going to come true.

"Ok…you can open them."

He held his breath as her eyes blinked open. That confused look was back until her gaze traced his arm up to the object he was holding over their heads.

"Mistletoe…" she murmured.

He nodded and explained, "I've wanted to kiss you for months, Michonne, and I was desperate enough to resort to holiday gimmicks to finally do it."

She didn't react immediately, and he could see the wheels turning behind her eyes. Every moment she didn't respond make him go a little more crazy on the inside. Maybe he'd read everything all wrong. Maybe he wasn't her type. Maybe she didn't want him like he wanted her…

He was in the middle of his downward spiral of insecurity when her gaze flicked down to his lips before meeting his again. Then, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and that action sent flames coursing through his bloodstream. He slid a little closer; close enough that their breaths intermingled and he caught a whiff of the delicate rose scented perfume she liked to wear. A lone loc had escaped from the messy bun on top of her head and he reached over to tuck it behind her ear; allowing his fingers to trace along the soft skin of her cheek as he pulled his hand away.

She was staring at his lips again and he took that as the last sign he needed. Leaning in closer, he tentatively pressed his lips against hers and almost instantly, she sighed and parted her lips, granting him full access to her hot little mouth. If he thought he was a little tipsy before, he was completely intoxicated now. She tasted like chocolate and cinnamon and that flavor went straight to his head. His hands itched to touch her; so he dropped the mistletoe to cup her beautiful face as he deepened the kiss and drowned himself in her.

She moaned as his tongue swept through her mouth and tangled with hers, and the sound turned him on even more. Without realizing it, he guided her backwards against the couch cushions and wedged himself between her legs. Her fingers slid under his shirt and held him close as he kept kissing her. When his hips started thrusting against hers in time with his tongue, he quickly became aware of what that kiss was turning into. Unable to think, he broke the kiss to look at her. He pupils were dilated and a soft smile danced on her lips. There was so much he wanted to say, to ask, but he couldn't find the words.

Then, her hands moved up to run through his hair and down his neck before finally cupping his face. Her smile grew impossibly wider then, and he knew she was feeling everything he was feeling. Whatever was happening, and whatever would happen between them was what was supposed to happen. This was what he'd been looking for ever since his marriage ended; Michonne was what he'd always been looking for.

He stared down at her in awe before kissing her again. This time, he pressed his body fully against hers; his hardness against her softness, and surrendered to the emotions that fueled him. He wanted her and she wanted him too. They could figure out the rest later. If he had his way, they'd have plenty of time together to do just that.

* * *

The bed was empty when she woke up in the morning and her heart clenched thinking he'd left without waking her. She'd never been a girl who gave it up on the first date…hell, she'd barely given it up during the first month. The night before with Rick had been completely different. When he'd kissed her, it felt like he should've been the one always kissing her. It had felt natural; like something inside of both of them had finally clicked together. So taking him to her bed had been the natural next step.

She stretched and the soreness in muscles that hadn't been used for a while reminded her of all the ways they'd explored each other during the night. He'd been insatiable; and if she was being completely honest, so had she. She couldn't get enough of him and that was another reason she was so disappointed that she'd woken up alone.

She climbed out of bed, and after stopping in her ensuite bathroom, she slipped into her silky blue robe and padded out of the bedroom. In the hallway, her senses were quickly overwhelmed. Eartha Kitt was singing Santa Baby through her speakers, the air was filled with the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg, and sunlight was streaming in through the windows. It had stopped snowing, but it was a winter wonderland outside. More snow was on the ground than Georgia had ever seen, and even though the temperature was supposed to get up high enough for it to melt away pretty quickly, it was definitely going to cause problems for King County. Did the county even have a snow plow, she wondered. She also wondered if Rick would be called into work because of the snow. God, she hoped not. She wasn't nearly ready to let him go yet.

Thinking about him made her return to her search for him, and she paused when she found him shirtless and hunched over the stove. God, he was sexy in the morning with his dark stubble and tousled curls. She flushed at the memory of how that stubble felt against her thighs and the way those silky strands felt between her fingers…

She shook her head. She needed to get herself together because there would be plenty of time for more of that later. Right then, she needed to focus on what he was cooking…or trying to cook in her kitchen. On the island behind him was what was left of a loaf of bread, milk, eggs, a few spice jars lined up in a row, and a bottle of maple syrup.

He was doing what snow storm prep demanded and making French toast. She bit her lip to hold in the laugh that would alert him to her presence and she wanted to watch him just a little longer.

"Shit!" He whispered; bringing his thumb up to his mouth to soothe what was obviously a burn.

"Are you ok over there?"

His head swiveled around and he gave her a sheepish grin that was just about the most adorable thing she'd ever seen.

"Yeah…I'm not the greatest cook."

"It means a lot that you're trying." She joined him at the stove and added, "Here. Let me."

He declined, focusing on the griddle.

"It's ok. I'm almost done."

She nodded, and leaned back against the counter next to him.

"You're up early," she commented.

"Yeah, I promised Carl and Judith I'd call them first thing. Then, I realized I was starving so I decided to make breakfast."

"It smells really good."

"I hope it tastes good."

He flipped the last two slices of toast from the griddle and onto the plate with the others. Only a few were slightly burnt, but the rest looked delicious. He tuned the range off and pulled her into his arms. His blue eyes were sparkling and happy as they traced her face.

"Good Morning," he whispered, before planting a quick kiss on her waiting lips.

She threaded her arms around his neck and grinned up at him.

"Good morning. Did you sleep ok?"

He smirked and pulled her in even closer.

"What sleep I got was good. You wore me out." Her cheeks went warm and she buried her face in his shoulder. "I mean, I have kids so I'm used to being exhausted on Christmas morning but this is a much better reason than wrapping presents."

She laughed and kissed along his jawline.

"Glad I could give you a good reason."

His hands found their way to her backside and gave it a squeeze. She'd discovered that he was an ass man the night before and now that he was free to touch her's when he wanted to, he was going to take advantage.

He said, "That does remind me though…I'm sorry I don't have an actual Christmas gift for you…"

Her mind flashed back to the sprig of mistletoe that had sparked their kiss the night before. It had been a gift even if he didn't think so, and she hoped they hadn't crushed it in their exuberance. She would figure out a way to preserve it as a reminder of how they began, and if she couldn't, she'd buy a new sprig every year.

"Don't be. You're my gift, Rick; one I've been waiting a long time for."

"You're my gift too, but when the kids get home, we're having Christmas part two and there'll be something for you under the tree."

"Are you asking me to spend Christmas part two with you?"

"Yes…but I'm also asking for New Year's Eve, New Year's Day, and any other day you can spare."

She smiled and agreed, "That works for me".

"Good…Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas."

He kissed the tip of her nose and squeezed her tight.

"Now, let's eat so we can have enough energy to spend as much of Christmas part one in bed as we can."

She nodded and gasped when he swatted her backside as she turned to go to the table. He chuckled as he set about plating their breakfast, and she had to just sit and take everything in. It was hard to believe that 24 hours earlier she'd been feeling sad about spending Christmas alone. Then, Rick had come along and changed all of that. She'd never know what had inspired him to come clean about his feelings for her, but she'd always believe it was the magic of Christmas that had given him the push. Now, all of the things she thought she'd never have, were possible again and it felt like it was meant to be this time. This time, everything was going to work out just the way it was always supposed to.

Rick set her plate in front of her before taking his seat across from her. He was so handsome that it was distracting, and she was so happy to be there with him in that moment. The Christmas spirit had snuck up on her when she'd least expected it and she couldn't be more grateful.

For once, she had to agree with her mother.

God Bless Sheriff Grimes.

* * *

 _Merry Christmas to all who celebrate and Happy Holidays to everyone!_


End file.
